


the bottom of the stairwell

by crownsandbirds



Series: it should be enough [4]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Character Study, Depression, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Non-Chronological, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Psychosis, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-14 19:46:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18058874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownsandbirds/pseuds/crownsandbirds
Summary: "it's raining. kite taps at the cover of the book.it's raining, cold water, and the world is a bad place again."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Hello darling, sorry about that.  
>  Sorry about the bony elbows, sorry we  
> lived here, sorry about the scene at the bottom of the stairwell  
>  and how I ruined everything by saying it out loud.  
>  Especially that, but I should have known."
> 
> (litany in which certain things are crossed out - richard siken)

the red nail polish on his thumb is chipped. it looks like someone dragged the tip of a blade on it, ruining the otherwise perfectly smooth surface. 

 

"three-hundred sixty-three days," crazy slot says. 

 

"fuck off," kite says. he touches the imperfection on his nail with his finger. he can't fix it, and now that he noticed it, he can't find it in himself to just ignore it. 

 

"you know," crazy slot drags on, its voice sing-sung and immensely irritating, "the only reason i know this is because  _ you _ know this."

 

kite raises an eyebrow. "did i ask?"

 

the conjured clown head does a little flip around itself. " _ some _ part of you did."

 

kite's hair falls over his face when he leans down to grab his book again. he tucks it behind his ear. it would be easier to braid it, the entire silvery, long length, but he can never bring himself to do so. the only person in the world to ever braid his hair is ging. 

 

it's raining. kite taps at the cover of the book. 

 

it's raining, cold water, and the world is a bad place again. 

 

_ let's go to the beach _ , a voice inside kite's brain says. in rainy days like these, the voices inside his head get more annoying. 

 

_ what for? _

 

_ it's better than staying here alone being miserable.  _

 

kite leans back on the pillows and watches the drops of water run down the window. he reaches for his cup of coffee in the glass center table - it's hardly warm, but he sips away at it anyway. he can never bring himself to lay food or drinks to waste. it doesn't matter how much of a millionaire he is now. it's the kind of instinct too strong for him to fight.

 

kite is used to doing nothing. he is used to being alone. it's not about being alone, per se. it's about  _ him _ not being here. 

 

kite lifts his index finger and makes a little nen bubble. it shapes itself into a little heart. the little heart snaps in half, and the bubble pops. 

 

"can you do this?" ging asked him as he made a small star made of nen rise up from the tip of his thumb. it was a rainy day back then as well, the two of them sitting down on the carpeted floor of pariston's penthouse, legs crossed the same way. 

 

kite stared up at him with his big eyes that ging always said were so endearing. 

 

kite shook his head. his hair was braided back, the long silvery braid over his shoulder. "teach me."

 

ging laughed. his laughter was beautiful, always had been. alive and delicious. kite could taste it on the back of his tongue. "okay."

 

kite can do that, now. he can make little nen bubbles. 

 

he hasn't seen ging in three-hundred sixty-three days. he has been counting. he always is. 

 

"you torture yourself," pariston hill told him one time when kite woke up from a nightmare and ging wasn't anywhere to be found in the penthouse. 

 

kite made a vague questioning noise. he'd dreamed of glass shards piercing his back. he'd dreamed of worse. 

 

pariston shook his head, handed kite a bottle of sparkling water. "i know how it feels, honey. but, for your sake, stop doing that."

 

kite sipped at the expensive sparkling water. pariston was so rich it was disgusting. 

him and kite and ging had about the same amount of money in their bank accounts, pariston maybe a bit more since he outranked them; but he was the only one out of the three of them who made it a  _ point _ , nearly a statement, to live like the millionaire he was. kite hated him for it, and hated himself even more for allowing himself to be spoiled with all of pariston's little gifts for him. 

 

kite loves the affection. would do anything for it. pariston knows, and takes advantage of that. it's psychological torture at its finest. he's mean in a way ging never is. his smile reminds kite of knife wounds. 

 

but at least he's always there in the morning. in the balcony, petting the dogs, wearing a perfect three-piece suit. 

 

"how do you stop feeling something?" kite asked. 

 

pariston smiled at him, caressed his hair with his long fingers. "you just do, sweetheart. you've done it before. just do it again."

 

kite curled in on himself. it was very early in the morning. heretically early. "you don't just stop loving someone," he said in a very small voice. 

 

pariston reached for him and held him very tightly. he smelled like expensive cologne and vanilla shampoo. kite felt his shoulders relaxing. "of course you don't, baby. you don't stop loving someone like ging. but you can stop torturing yourself over it."

 

kite thought of pushing him away, didn't. he was too weak when it came to basic comfort like this. being held tight, having the top of his head kissed. pariston taught him how to paint his nails and watched animated movies with him. it was like their own disturbed version of the childhood neither of them had experienced. 

 

pariston kissed his temple. his lips were soft. "but you won't do it. you're such a pretty little pet. you'll love him until you die."

 

kite downs the rest of his lukewarm coffee and rests the novel on his lap. 

  
  


"don't trust paris _,_ " ging told him once, the first time they stayed over at the swaldani penthouse. the only thing kite knew about pariston back then was that he was a bad person, enough to merit a warning from ging. "he loves misery. his or someone else's. he'll break you as soon as you give him the chance."

 

kite stared at him. "did  _ you _ give him the chance?"

 

ging looked away. "yes. and he took it."

 

kite tilted his head to the side. "you look fine about it."

 

ging tugged at his braid gently. "you've already been through so much, honey. don't give the world more opportunities to hurt you."

 

pariston never quite understood. ging's psycho boyfriend is different from anyone kite's ever met. his love doesn't work as it should. his love is terrifying and violent and all-encompassing, with all the logic of a fever dream made real. 

 

but, still. still kite thinks there's no one in the world who loves ging as much as he himself does. 

 

sometimes kite breaks down crying from how much he misses him. sometimes he grits his teeth and shakes with need from having him close. 

 

he loves so much it physically pains him. he can feel his heart twisting around itself. it's so unhealthy, it's so hurtful, it's the strongest thing kite has ever felt in his entire life.

 

stronger than the pain. stronger than the humiliation of being thrown down on the sidewalk. stronger than the hatred he felt for the men who destroyed him. stronger than the hunger and the cold that stole his soul whenever winter came around in that awful city. 

 

kite knows he has been through a lot. he knows he was born in one of the bad corners of the world. he has nightmares. he loses track of time. he still has panic attacks when winter comes around. 

 

he doesn't like to think about that, so he thinks about ging. 

 

ging is his hometown. ging is the waves of the ocean, the first time he brought kite to see it, the strong saltwater stealing the sand. ging is the strong arms wrapped around kite when he started crying because of how endless the sea was. ging is his first kiss and his first time and his first and only love. ging is every single second of every single adventure. 

 

ging is everything. 

 

kite clutches at his chest. sometimes he wonders if he's going to die of loving too much. 

 

he checks his phone. no new messages. 

 

"three-hundred sixty-three," crazy slot says. 

 

"fuck off," kite mumbles, more out of instinct than anything else. "he said he would be here for my birthday."

 

"two days."

 

kite stares out of the window. the rain falls down. "two days."

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which kite is very tired.

sometimes kite gets really sad. 

 

when he gets really sad, he can't get out of bed. his legs go weak and lax under the fluffy blankets. his head weighs too much on the pillow. he can't muster enough strength to turn on the light. 

 

the blinds shut the sunlight outside of his room. it's a very large room - kite doesn't enjoy cramped places. he slept in an unfair amount of benches during his childhood. now he likes having a big king-sized bed he can roll around on.

 

he shifts and turns. wraps the blanket tighter around himself. feels grateful that the merciless sunlight of swaldani city can’t enter his little black hole of lonely comfort.

 

sometimes he wonders if he caught the photophobia from pariston. pariston hill is like a bad thought - horrible but tempting. he is kite's newest self-destruction mechanism, and the worst part is that he's actually sweet sometimes. sometimes he makes kite pancakes and paints his nails with soft pink nail polish and calls him  _ baby _ . 

 

it's worse now that kite moved in to swaldani city. they see a lot of each other. they bond over ging not being here. they bond over nightmares. pariston tells him about how he goes to bed late at night, his stomach hurting with how hungry he is. kite listens and tells him about his panic attacks when someone claps him on the shoulder.

 

pariston hill is the one person in the world who's fucked up enough to listen to all of kite's story and do nothing but smile and pet his head and say  _ it's okay honey i'm here _ .

 

ging saved kite and held him close to his chest as he took him away from that awful city but ging isn't good at basic comforting, even the fake kind pariston is so fond of. it's okay. kite never demanded for him to be. 

 

he doesn't know why he's thinking about these things. maybe because he's lonely and sad and in love with a man who is on the other side of the ocean. 

 

really sad.

 

he lets his arm flop down. the tips of his fingers skim the floor. sinclair, the black stray cat he adopted last year and who's fond of sleeping under his bed, walks slowly up to his hand and nuzzles his palm. kite scratches his soft ears.

 

“good morning, you,” he whispers. his voice feels weird. sinclair purrs. 

 

in the bedside table, his phone lights up again. kite has a lot to do. he moved to swaldani city and now he has so many jobs he can hardly deal with them all. he gets so many texts and phone calls everyday. he has to learn how to be polite to strangers. it's hell. it’s so overwhelming it makes him cry sometimes. he ignores his phone and keeps petting his cat. 

 

he knows it's not ging. he set up a special ringtone for him so he never misses his texts or phone calls.

 

he thinks about calling him. calling him and saying _it's six in the morning and i'm so sad it feels like i'm dying._ _the desperate kind of sad. come save me again._

 

there's a knock at his door. sinclair rushes back under the bed. he's still a very skittish cat, scared of anyone who isn't kite or ging.

 

“who is it?” kite asks.

 

“it's me,” comes the muffled voice from behind the door.

 

kite grabs his blankets tighter.

 

spinner tiptoes inside. kite notices she left her shoes at the door and turned off the hallway lights so the brightness wouldn’t hurt kite's eyes. it's nice of her.

 

she shuts the door behind herself and  sits on the carpeted floor next to his head. 

 

“why aren't you at work?” she asks, voice soft. 

 

“why do you care?” he says, and it's rude and sharp because he honestly doesn’t know why anyone would care about him. he's just a skittish stray cat. 

 

“because we need you. because we want you there.”

 

“you could do it without me, if you tried,” kite says. his phone lights up again. he wants to smash it against the wall.

 

“yeah.” spinner leans back on her hands. “we could. but we don't want to try. we want you with us. because we're your friends.”

 

he turns on the bed, his back to her. she's nice. too nice. he’s feeling cruel and awful. all his jagged edges at show. he doesn't want to cut her. 

 

“after lunch,” he says to the wall in front of him. the certificate for his first star is on the wall. it looks like something from another dimension. there's no surname written on the fancy paper. kite doesn't have a surname. he barely has a name.

 

“hm?” 

 

“i'll go meet you after lunch.”

 

he can hear the smile on her voice when she says, “okay.”

 

they stay silent for a little while until spinner asks, “did something happen?”

 

kite flinches.

 

too much happened. maybe it was the fact that he couldn’t sleep last night. maybe it's because he’s still bad enough at math that doing his taxes like a normal adult is hard and he's been stressing over it for days. maybe it’s because pariston snapped at him the last time they saw each other. maybe it's because his right hand hurts from typing out so many reports to the biology department of the hunter association. maybe it’s because he wants a second star so bad it pains him but he's too tired to work for it. maybe it's because ging isn't here with his sunlight laughter and his ocean eyes. maybe it's because kite is so tired of everything around him.

 

or maybe it's something else entirely. maybe the awful town he was born in never leaves him. maybe he can't wash out the filthy hands who touched him no matter how hard he tries. maybe he doesn't get to be happy.

 

“nothing happened,” he whispers. “i’m just tired.”

 

spinner climbs on the bed slowly enough that kite could stop her if he wanted to, except he doesn't want to.

 

“can i cuddle you?” she asks.

 

he nods silently. she holds him. her body is warm against his. sinclair meows under the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i should be sleeping but im too sad


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which ging is there for kite's birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "be still, my foolish heart, don't ruin this on me."
> 
> (hozier)
> 
> [in honor of magictodestroy who updated their kite fic shhhh go read it its so much better than this one]

"hold me," they say. 

 

"okay."

 

ging moves so kite can lay back against him, back to his strong chest. as soon as kite wriggles themself into comfort, ging wraps his arms around their middle and presses a kiss to their temple. 

 

"are you enjoying your birthday?" he asks. 

 

kite nods. "yes, since you're here."

 

ging laughs his delicious laughter. sometimes kite thinks the secret of the wonders of the world is hidden in ging's smile. rare. alive. "you're still a softie."

 

the tv is on before them. it's a good tv, big and expensive - a gift from pariston, for a birthday years before (has it been years since kite met him? pariston doesn't get old, they think. he's like an entity of cruelty and smiles. forever stuck in the apparent age of twenty and something). kite only ever watches trash. early morning infomercials, animated movies no one cares about because they're too dark for children, animal documentaries that last two hours about the arctic, horror movies with a lot of jumpscares. 

 

kite is fascinated by the emptiness of modern things. the coldness of nothing. there's something nihilistic about it. life with no purpose. bright, white lights and vacant eyes. something that makes them value even more the precious lives they look after. 

 

"do you want to go do something?" ging asks. he idly threads his fingers through kite's hair. ging is a tactile person. he needs to  _ touch _ . kite likes being touched. it reminds them they're a real person. 

 

kite wonders if he's getting bored. it's hard to tell. ging will sometimes spend two weeks in the same place, doing the exact same thing - every now and then they remember with a startle he was once a married man and it's so damn hard to picture - and other times he will get impossibly restless after five minutes of lying in bed. 

 

kite is terrified of boring ging. it's even scarier because ging's attention span is more fickle than a hummingbird's wings, and it's impossible to predict what will drive his interest away this time. they're terrified of boring ging because then they will lose him and then, what  _ then? _

 

_ focus,  _ they remember ging teaching them years ago.  _ you think about things too much. focus. answer the question, solve the problem. everything in life is a question and to every question, there's an answer. focus, kite. answer the question.  _

 

kite shakes their head. they don't want to go out. out is rain and people they don't know and putting on socially acceptable clothes. in is cuddling with ging and having their hair petted and trash television and pajamas. 

 

ging shrugs. "okay," he says, and clings to kite tighter. 

 

"i missed you, baby" he whispers, and kite feels like crying. 

 

"did you?" they ask, because they're weak and ging is sunlight.

 

"mmhm." ging kisses the top of their head. "kept thinking of you. it's easier to deal with paris when you're around. he behaves like less of a psycho."

 

_ only when you're around,  _ kite thinks. 

 

_ stop thinking about other people, think about me only _ , it's the second thing that comes to their mind, and they remember someone telling them once that the second thing that comes to your mind is what defines you. 

 

the rain slides down the window. the infomercial plays on the tv like something out of a dream.

there's something weird in having a birthday that happens at valentine's day. it's like love is a dragonfly, just out of reach, quick but there. kite keeps trying to take hold of it. 

 

"take me next time, then," they say. "take me with you."

 

kite misses the first years. they miss being with ging and sleeping in hotel rooms and watching him doze off in buses and airports as they waited. they waited a lot, in those first years. waiting in bus stops and train stations and airports. their  _ thing _ , whatever it is - pariston calls it  _ unhealthy codependency _ , but what does pariston know about anything anyway - started in those liminal, nameless spaces. they bonded over sitting down, thighs pressed together, kite with their head on ging's shoulder, listening to the passers-by or just ging running his mouth telling his endless stories. 

 

ging never finishes his stories. his stories always go on forever, endless tales about everything. ging builds up an entire new world with his words. 

 

kite was born in a different place. a different, ugly place. the sidewalks were broken and weed grew between the cracks and the streetlights were weak and flickering and the sunlight was white and blinding and the buildings were old-fashioned.

 

sometimes they wake up in the middle of the night, sweaty, their legs aching with desperation to escape from that town, as if they're still there, as if it never left them.  

 

ging is their entire universe now.  

 

"okay," ging says. kite knows he means it now, but he probably won't mean it later.

 

it's okay. just the fake illusion of a promise is good enough. 

 

ging kisses the corner of their lips. "happy birthday, honey."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a cookie goes to whoever manages to pinpoint the exact line in which ging is a fucking hypocrite


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which kite intrudes in a coffee break during a zodiac meeting.

"what do you need, beautiful?"

 

from the corner of their eye, kite can see mizai scoffing at pariston's sickly sweet voice.

 

"give me ging's location," they ask. demand. pariston narrows his eyes.

 

"what makes you think i have it?" he says. he crosses his long legs. pariston wears his beauty like a rogue wears a dagger and a tyrant king wears a crown. dangerously and sharply. _the prettiest of the zodiacs,_ mizai had said once before, with a disgusted curl to his tongue. pariston makes people feel so attracted to him they get angry about it. "you give me way too much credit."

 

pariston is the youngest of the zodiacs, the prettiest, the highest in ranking, and the biggest manipulator. kite stands up very straight. "you either have his location or a way of getting in touch with him whenever you want. whatever it is, i want it."

 

pariston smiles. his smile drags through his lips like there's a knife splitting his lips open. he leans back in his tall, cushioned chair and tilts his chin up.

 

"oh, c'mon, alex," netero says suddenly, his voice immensely amused.

 

kite watches with some horror as the vice-chairman tenses up from head to toe, the smirk vanishing from his face, posture going from crown prince to dangerous assassin. "don't call me that," he hisses. his hands are shaking viciously under the table.

 

netero waves in a dismissing gesture, as if he can barely notice just how affected pariston is at the mysterious name. "at least listen to the kid." he turns to kite then, eyes scrutinizing them down to their soul. "what do you want ging for?"

 

"don't we always need ging for something or other?" cheadle mutters from where she has her head pillowed on her arms on top of the table. cheadle always looks exhausted. "what difference does it make what they need it for?"

 

it hurts kite to know that she's right. ging's absence is everywhere like a grey cloud, like fog. he makes himself indispensable and then forces people to deal with him not being there.

 

they're in the coffee break of a zodiac meeting. for the tenth time this year, the vice-chairman has brought forth a motion for amendment of the fourth hunter bylaw, and for the tenth time this year the zodiacs are stuck after midnight in the meeting room on the top floor of the association building, trying to figure out a majority in an even-numbered group without having to chase after ging. pariston and netero are having the time of their lives. mizaistom has locked people frozen with his nen ability five times in the past two hours. nothing is getting solved tonight.

 

kite figures their righteous anger poses as good entertainment, if nothing else.

 

piyon appears to be live-tweeting the entire thing.

 

"well," netero drawls out, placing his hand on the papers in front of him. "if they're searching for him, asking outright for his location is cheating. a hunter must hunt their prey on their own. if it's something else, it would be no problem."

 

kite shakes their head. "i'm not searching for him."

 

"grew out of that, did you?" pariston snarls.

 

"clearly _you_ didn't," kite snaps back.

 

"just shut the fuck up, pariston," piyon says. her voice is loud and the words sound more expressive when she says them. _fuck_ sounds like a bullet being shot out of a gun. "go take your psychosis meds or something."

 

mizaistom raises his hands and maintains a neutral expression even when pariston looks at him as if he wants to bite his fingers off. kite wonders how mizaistom doesn't get tired of playing peacemaker all the goddamn time. "let's all calm down. coffee break is nearly over, it's almost one in the morning, and we need to finish up tonight's meeting."

 

"i agree with mizai," cheadle says tiredly. she takes a sip of her cappuccino. "let's finish this and go home. clearly we won't be able to solve anything today."

 

"of course you do. law school prom king and queen couple," pariston mutters. his tone cuts through the air like glass. the diamond in his earring glints in the white light of the room.  

 

he's so mean. he's pointlessly mean like an arrogant school child would be if they were also both a millionaire and a psychopath. poison drips from the corner of his lips.

 

"pariston, i swear to _god_ \- " cheadle starts, dog ears twitching with irritation on top of her head.

 

kite realizes with a startle just how perfect pariston and ging are for each other. they should lock themselves in a room and break each other's hearts and step in the shards and bleed all over the floor until their drops of blood are the same. restrain their misery so they can't ever hurt anyone else ever again.

 

kite is tired of being thrown into their mess. there's more to the world than running after ging freecss and being psychologically tortured by pariston hill. there's more to the world than getting down on their knees and letting themself be used for something or other.

 

let them ruin each other, if they want. kite was already ruined enough.

 

"i want to tell him to fuck off," kite says. their heart beats madly inside their chest.

 

pariston bursts out laughing.

 

"there's nothing more hilarious than when a little lamb grows a spine," he manages to say between unfairly lovely giggles. "go on, then," he hisses between his perfect white teeth. he sounds a little mad. "i _dare_ you."

 

the zodiacs watch their altercation in a stunned silence.

 

at some point, mizaistom sighs. "kite."

 

"yes."

 

"come with me, please."

 

kite goes. they can feel pariston's sick gaze following them all the way out of the room.

 

mizaistom's office is two hallways down, to the right of the vice-chairman's. he holds the door for kite to step inside.

 

"after you," he says, almost as an instinct, as if he's spent his entire life holding doors open for people.

 

the inside is perfectly decorated, with the diploma from his law school proudly hanging on the wall alongside the certificates for both his stars. in his desk, there are two framed pictures: one of him and cheadle on their graduation as law students, and a more recent one, him holding cheadle's white coat for her to put on during her graduation from med school. it's homely and, at the same time, carefully curated. almost unhealthily so, from the way the pens are aligned on the desk to the black suit jacket thrown over his chair and the empty cup of coffee on a shelf.

 

as if he's faking a sense of normalcy that doesn't belong to him.

 

kite glances at mizai's broad shoulders and wonders what went wrong with him.

 

mizai walks around his desk and opens a drawer and searches inside it for a while before handing kite a flip phone.

 

it's an old-fashioned model, a faded blue color. kite hasn't seen one of these in at least five years. it barely looks real in their hand.

 

"what is this?" they ask.

 

"ging gave me this a few years ago," mizai explains, leaning against the edge of the desk. "there's only three numbers saved there. one of them is ging's. feel free to text him or call him."

 

kite's heart hasn't stopped racing. they feel like they're committing a crime.

 

"what - why did he - "

 

"call ging," mizai says, with all the certainty in the world. "you wanted to talk to him. call him. he will pick up."

 

kite stares at the little phone with wide eyes.

 

 _go on, then,_ pariston whispers in their ear.  _i_ dare _you._

 

"as to why, ging knows pariston is just not reliable," mizai continues. "in case something comes up, i'm the most secure way he has of getting help or shelter or whatever it is he needs. in exchange for all i've done for him since we met, he gave me this quick way of getting in contact, for when i really needed him around. i've only used it once or twice. the other two saved numbers are pariston's and netero's, also for emergencies."

 

kite swallows dry. it's almost one in the morning and all the memories weigh heavily on their shoulders.

 

"why are you helping me?", they ask.

 

mizai gives a little self-deprecating smile. "i like helping," he says, and he sounds almost sad about it. kite can't figure out why. "and i know the feeling of needing to talk to ging and being unable to. it can feel immensely frustrating. besides, _someone_ needs to hold ging accountable. i'm too much of a softie, pariston is too much of a madman, and netero just doesn't care either way. might as well be you."

 

he stretches, grabs his empty coffee mug from the shelf - it has an adorable cow pattern - and smiles at kite one last time. "i need to go back to the meeting. take your time."

 

kite is left alone in the homely but unnerving office.

 

they press the call button with shaky fingers.

 

 _go on, then_ . _i_ dare _you._

 

ging picks on the sixth ring. "what is it, mizai?" he asks.

 

kite wants to burst into tears at listening to his voice. it's been so long. long enough for kite to grow frustrated about it, long enough to miss him so bad their anger doesn't matter.

 

 _i can't do it_ , they think. ging is sunlight. harsh, painful sunlight, but light nonetheless.

 

kite needs to light a candle at some point. they need to step away from this empty, huge glade.

 

"hey, ging," they say, voice small.

 

"kite?"

 

"hey, there."

 

"how did you get this? did mizai give it to you?"

 

kite nods, remembers ging can't see them, says, "yes."

 

ging sighs. "that's _so much_ like him. jesus, mizai. but, hey, honey. did you need something?"

 

kite lets themself sit down on the carpeted floor, presses the phone closer to their ear. "just wondering where you were."

 

ging hums. "come meet me, why don't you? i'll pass by swaldani, like, this week - cheadle has been yelling at me about an amendment or something. we can meet up then."

 

kite closes their eyes. they think about pariston's sharp smile, glass shards, blood. sunlight. the sea. "okay. see you then."

  


**Author's Note:**

> i want this to be a multichap but i cant promise anything


End file.
